


Raison D'être

by Mysticars



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex and Thomas are roommates, Alex is a mess, College AU, Crying, Heartbreak, Henry is a lil bit of an ass, James helps him, KInda sad i guess, M/M, Minor Character Death, Modern AU, Thomas doesn't know how to handle sad shit, cursing, first fic, just a smidge, poor bby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-13 01:40:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7133357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mysticars/pseuds/Mysticars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>raison d'être</p><p>(n.) the thing that is most important to someone or something : the reason for which a person or organization exists.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Letter

Dear Mr. Hamilton,

 

It is my painful duty to inform you that upon this morning, August 28th, I had received word from the United States Military notifying the death of my son John Laurens. On Tuesday the 27th, my son was killed by a stray bullet just outside of where his regiment camped. His last wishes were to inform you of this first and proclaim his undying, yet disagreeable, affections towards you. His funeral will be in two weeks time in Moncks Corner, North Carolina where he will be buried in our family cemetery. I will see you there if you have the means to attend. Farewell.

 

Sincerely,

Henry Laurens

Time. Time is an observed phenomenon, by means of which human beings sense and record changes in the environment and in the universe. A literal definition is elusive. Time has been called an illusion, a dimension, a smooth-flowing continue, and an expression of separation among events that occur in the same physical location. To Alexander Hamilton, time had ceased to exist. Everything around him took an abrupt halt as he scrutinized the diminutive piece of paper, his eyes scanning the text over and over, looking for a “It’s just a joke, Alexander” or a “We got you good, didn’t we? Don’t worry, John will be back home in 3 weeks just like he promised!”, but it was not there. 

“Alexander.”

What time is it? It was only 3:29 in the afternoon. Why did Alexander feel so lightheaded? His forehead felt like a furnace in the winter time, heated to it’s capacity. His vision had started to go blurry and his body numb, making him almost topple over due to the wave a nausea and weakness that had spread across his figure. Who’s voice was that? Who was saying his name? It had to have been John. John was supposed to come home to him. John was supposed to help him decorate his dorm room and take him out to dinner and cuddle with him and, and, and…

“Hamilton, what the fuck? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

Alexander’s head shot up, beads of sweat soaring off his blistering skull and landing onto the uninhabited tile floor. “John!” It was a shout of desperation. A shout of hope that maybe, maybe it was all just a nightmare and John was going to be with him when he awoke. John would be there and he would hold him, calm him down and whisper sweet nothings into his ear until sleep came for him once more. John would make him breakfast, preferably a nice and warm stack of pancakes with maple syrup oozing from top. John wou- - 

“I’m going to say it again, this time louder. What the fuck, Hamilton. Who are you talking to? There is no John here. It’s Jefferson, your asshole of a roommate.”

Jefferson. Thomas. Thomas Jefferson. Oh, how Alexander hated that man. Why was he here again? Why was he yelling? Where was John? John. He needed John. “Thomas.” 

There was a hesitant response from the other male. “Uh, yeah? What the fuck, are you okay? As much as I’d like to take advantage of this situa—“ His sentence was cut short by a piece of paper being crumpled into his chest by Alexander, who had started to make his way back to his private bedroom.

After Thomas had heard the slam of the rickety wooden door, he cautiously peeled his hands off of the paper that Alexander had plastered to his chest. His eyes started to scan over the cursed text, his eye’s widening at what it had to offer. Oh fuck. All at once, the screams and sobs from his loathed roommate’s bedroom flowed uncomfortably in Thomas’s ear. Everything made sense now. John was dead and Alexander had died with him.


	2. Comfort Him.

Was it normal to be enclosed inside of a bedroom for 3+ days? Was it normal to scream your lungs out, hoping that maybe, just maybe, that the problem in it’s entirety would be resolved? Was it normal to care for someone you despised oh so much? These were the things Thomas Jefferson asked himself days after the cursed letter had disrupted his roommate’s life. 

Thomas wanted to so badly take advantage of this moment. He wanted to finally get revenge and run that son of bitch into the ground, but he could not. It was that simple. Thomas could not take advantage of the moment because…well, because—…because he cared, goddamnit. Thomas could only imagine what his roommate was going through. God, it must be awful. Thomas would lie awake at night just listening to the sound of a heartbreaking for hours on end. Maybe it was all ju— 

Knock, knock, knock.

‘Now who the fuck could that be?’ Thomas ask himself, vaguely annoyed that the knock interrupted his thinking. 

Knock, knock, knock.

“I’m coming! Hold your damn horses, jeez!” Thomas yelled through the wooden door as he tried to undo all the locks. “Ah, James,” he said when he finally got the door open. “What brings you here?”

“You know good and well why I’m here, Thomas,” the shorter man replied, looking up to his friend with a worried expression on his face.

“Educate me.”

“It’s about Hamilton, Thomas. Now, I know you’re not fond of him or anything and neither am I, but—.”

“What are you suggesting, James?” Thomas interrupted while he lazily leaned on the doorframe.

James cleared his throat before he continued. “Thomas, he’s a mess. Everyone in this whole building can’t sleep anymore because of that damn letter. I don’t blame the poor man, though. He’s probably going through hell.”

“I’ll ask one more time: what are you suggesting?”

“Comfort him, Tom. He needs someone. You’re his roommate, so /comfort/ him.”

“Now hold on the—“

“No, Thomas. Comfort him.” And just like that, James was gone, leaving Thomas all alone in the doorway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! Sorry it's a little short D: I threw this together at 3AM lmao! See you next time, friends!

**Author's Note:**

> Ahh!! Thank you so so so much for reading this! It was really just a lil ole thing that popped into my mind while roleplaying one day, haha! I'm not sure if I'll continue this or not (I'm planning to!). I guess we'll just have to wait and see! Until next time, friends!


End file.
